


Banished

by Desade



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Fingerfucking, Frosthawk - Freeform, M/M, Near Death Experience, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/pseuds/Desade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin banishes Loki in punishment for his crimes on Midgard.  Clint is unwilling to accept that sentence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banished

**Disclaimer: I own nothing beyond the scenarios my twisted little brain spits out. All characters contained within belong to bigger and better entities than I. Please do not sue, as I own literally nothing beyond the clothes on my back. Also, grammar and tenses sometimes escape me, so please, be kind.**

It had been two weeks since Thor had appeared with the news that Odin was demanding Loki's return to Asgard to face punishment for his crimes on Earth. Two weeks of thinly veiled worry. Fourteen restless nights spent curled alone in a bed that suddenly seemed too large by half. So when Thor pounded on Clint's door before daybreak on the fifteenth day, the archer was already awake and dressed.

Yanking open the door, Clint was met with the sight of a rather disheveled Thor. His blonde mane was tangled and leonine face drawn into a scowl. The demi-god's visible anger brought a small measure of comfort to Clint, because had Loki been handed the ultimate punishment, Thor would have come to him in tears.

"What happened," he questioned, without so much as a greeting. "Where's Loki?"

"Banished," Thor growled as he shouldered past the archer. "To Jotunheim, of all places!"

"How long," he asked quietly.

Thor sighed and drew one large hand over his face. "Forever. Or until such time as Loki can find a way off that forsaken ball of ice. Odin stripped him of any magic that would allow his escape, so that path is closed."

"So…just go get him," Clint thundered.

"I cannot. Father forbade me to assist Loki in any way, and used Gungnir to bind me." He leveled a tortured look at the archer. "I am of no help in this matter."

A slow grin rose on Clint's face, and Thor gazed at the smaller man in confusion as he turned and plucked his bow off the wall. Strapping his quiver across his back, Clint headed for the door, calling over one shoulder, "C'mon Sunshine. Places to go, people to see."

"Where are we going," Thor questioned.

"To ask your friend Jane about taking a ride on her imitation Bifrost. Odin may have forbidden you from helping Loki, but he didn't say squat about me."

Jane Foster had always been an early riser, and she was especially glad for the habit this morning. Thor and Agent Barton had touched down outside the observatory shortly after sunrise, both talking a mile a minute. The diminutive woman had raised her hands, attempting to silence them, but failing that had turned and ambled off to get another cup of coffee. Blowing on the beverage, she studied them over the rim of her cup.

"Ok, now one at a time. All I heard was 'Loki', 'Jotunheim' and 'Bifrost'. What exactly is going on?"

Clint had allowed Thor to explain as he waited impatiently. He'd figured that Jane would be far more agreeable to this plan if she thought she was doing a favor for her favorite Norse God. As she asked question after question, Clint used the time to check his provisions. Thor had said Jotunheim was an ice planet, so they'd made a stop at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters for cold weather gear. His bow was at his side, quiver full, and he was as ready as he was ever going to get.

"But we haven't even tested it yet," Jane wailed. "We don't have clearance for human subjects!"

"Then I'll volunteer to be the first," Clint broke in. "Look. One way or another, I'm going. Now, either you help me, or I'll have to figure out how to work the damn thing on my own. And I'm sure you don't want me breaking your big, shiny toy, right?"

Jane gaped at Clint, and then huffed a quiet sigh. "Ok. Fine. I can see that there's no dissuading you. But just know, there's every chance that you might end up somewhere you hadn't counted on, and possibly in pieces."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, Doctor Foster. Now, can we get this show on the road? I've got an ice planet to invade."

As Jane readied the machine, Thor took Clint aside and gave him every possible warning about what he may encounter on Jotunheim. The archer listened carefully, trying not to think about the bigger issues at stake. Such as whether or not the atmosphere would be compatible, or that he was about to be teleported across several realms and dropped on a strange planet, and never mind the fact that he had no idea how he was planning on finding Loki once he arrived. All that mattered was getting there, and the rest would fall into place.

"I think we're set," Jane called.

"You think," Clint shot back. "Not inspiring a lot of confidence here, sister."

Jane scowled at him, stating, "I did say that we haven't tested the machine yet. In theory, everything is ready, but in practice? I have no idea."

"Great," Clint mumbled as he strapped on a rucksack over his thick winter gear and slung his bow over his shoulder.

"Luck be with you, Clint Barton," Thor rumbled, clasping his shoulder and giving him a somber look.

"Thanks, big guy," the archer replied. "Don't worry. As long as your girlfriend over there doesn't scramble my atoms, then I'll be back…with your brother."

"I have no doubt of that," the demi-god said with a smile as Clint stepped onto the platform.

"Ready," Jane asked.

"As I'll ever be," Clint answered.

And suddenly he was falling, surrounded by a brilliant light and the deepest silence he'd ever experienced.

"Ohhhh, fuck that," Clint groaned as he swam back to consciousness, every part of his body aching. "There's gotta be a better way to travel." He opened his eyes to an alien sky, and took a moment to inventory his limbs before attempting to move. Everything seemed to be intact; nothing broken or misplaced.

Clint shoved himself upright, eyes scanning his surroundings, instantly alert to any danger. He found himself in a gully, sheer walls of ice rearing up around him at sharp angles. Wisps of snow scudding across the ground, and he could already feel the chill setting in even through his heavy clothes. Climbing to his feet, he gripped his bow a little tighter and set down a homing beacon before heading off to find a way out of the valley.

Fifteen minutes later, Clint noticed the canyon walls slowly drawing apart. Another five and the ground beneath his feet began to slope upward, eventually bringing him to the top of a bluff. "Well…fuck," he breathed as he crested the hill, slowly turning in a circle and surveying the landscape of Jotunheim. It was a wasteland; no buildings, no signs of life. Just snow and giant blocks of ice that lay tumbled in piles for as far as the eye could see. There was no indication as to which way to go; no hint where Loki may be hiding. Sighing, Clint set off with the wind at his back, letting the path of least resistance choose his direction for him.

He travelled steadily for an hour, keeping as fast a pace as possible in order to combat the chill that was seeping into his bones. As Clint trotted through the snow, he wondered what was more distressing; the fact that it was far colder than he had expected, or that he had yet to see an indication that there were any other living things on this godforsaken rock. He had just reached the top of another rise when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he nocked an arrow and drew back, waiting to see exactly what he faced.

It charged from behind one of the ice boulder, and Clint absently noted that this was one of the creatures Thor had warned him against. He felt a small burst of relief at the confirmation that he was at least in the right realm, which was followed by a moment of panic when the beast shrugged off the first arrow as if it were a gnat. He swore bitterly and loosed two more, the second finding its way into the thing's eye, finally bringing it down in the snow where it skidded to a stop at Clint's feet. Pulling the arrows free, he wiped them clean in the animal's thick white fur before returning them to his quiver. He toed the carcass, wondering over the fact that it so closely resembled an arctic fox. Never mind the fact that it was the size of a bull, or that its mouth seemed hinged in such a way that it could conceivable swallow him whole. The similarities far outweighed the differences, and Clint found that oddly troubling. A moment later, his disquiet was multiplied as a growl rose from nearby. Swiveling toward the sound, he was faced with yet another of the creatures, and judging by the size of this beast, the one he'd just killed had most likely been a cub.

Backpedalling furiously, the archer employed his talent as a pissed off alien fox the size of an elephant rushed at him. He pulled and loosed, pulled and loosed, arrows slamming into the thing's thick hide and bouncing off into the snow. Turning, he put on a burst of speed as the creature bellowed from behind. Just ahead was an expanse of smooth black ice, and Clint barreled toward it, thanking the gods of gear that he'd thought to strap on his cleats. Reaching the ice, he made a hard left, hoping that the creature wasn't able to maneuver as well on the slippery surface. The ground shuddered beneath his feet as the fox flopped onto its side and went skidding, floundering and shrieking out its rage all the while. Clint's momentary victory was washed away in a spike of sheer terror as the ice beneath the beast exploded upward, tossing it into the air. A huge eel-like creature, easily the size of a blue whale rose from the hole in the ice, snatching the alien fox in mid-air and swallowing it whole before sinking down out of sight. Clint's eyes widened as he took in the suddenly serene landscape, the only clue that anything had occurred being the massive hole in the ice.

"WHAT in the ACTUAL fuck was THAT?! Why is that even a THING," he ranted, kicking at the ridge of snow at the edge of the ice. "THANKS for warning me about THAT, Thor!" Panting lightly, his breath fogging in the frigid air, Clint bent forward and placed his hands on his knees, waiting for his panic to abate. "Goddamn it, Loki," he grumbled. "You'd better consider yourself lucky that I like you, otherwise I'd leave you here to rot with the steroid foxes and city sized eels. Fucking Jotunheim." After a moment, Clint set out again, making sure to skirt around any further black ice he encountered.

Hours later, he fell for the first time. The temperature had dropped even further as the light fled from the sky, and he could barely feel his feet. As he lay in the snow, he shivered violently while mentally screaming at himself to get back up and continue on. It took a few tries, but he eventually regained his feet and staggered forward, intent on finding his target, no matter the cost.

The next time he fell, it took a little more effort to force himself upright, and the third time he felt himself drifting as he lay in the snow, his mind cycling through all of the mistakes he had made.

As his vision started to dim, he made out a large humanoid shape approaching, and weakly scrabbled for his bow. This was obviously one of the Frost Giants Thor had told him of, and it looked anything but welcoming. Its teeth were bared in a grimace, and one arm was sheathed in ice, forming a large but effective blade. It squatted over him and pressed the blade to his stomach as it growled, red eyes glaring into the archer's own. Clint's hand finally found his bow, but his fingers were too stiff from the cold to grasp it, and he uttered a frustrated sob.

Steeling himself for the killing blow, he mumbled, "Sorry, Loki. So…sorry."

The Frost Giant's brows drew together at his words, and suddenly a feral snarl came from behind the creature. A spike of ice burst through its chest, and its face slackened as it looked down. Clint stared in confusion as the giant's blood sprayed across his face, and the body slowly toppled off to one side, revealing another form standing at Clint's feet. 'Great,' he thought. 'They're offing each other over who gets to kill the squishy human.' And with that, he passed out.

When he next woke, it was to the sound of flames licking the air. He felt the warmth of the fire radiating at his left side, and the hard press of a body at his right, an arm slung across his middle. Lying still, Clint cracked open one eye, finding himself on a pallet in what looked to be an ice cave. He then turned his gaze to the creature sleeping next to him. Cerulean skin, smaller than a Frost Giant should be, bare chested and adorned with golden ornaments in a display of vanity. And finally, a sharp, fine boned face, decorated with raised lines and whorls, crowned by a tousled mane of black hair that Clint immediately recognized.

"Loki," he croaked, throat dry and painful. "Found you."

Opening crimson eyes, Loki grinned at Clint with teeth a little sharper than they normally were. "You found me," he questioned, in a mirthful tone. "Yes, I can see how you managed that, lying half dead in the snow, about to be gutted by one of my idiot kin."

Clint uttered a hoarse chuckle and slid one arm around Loki's neck, dragging him down against him. "Missed you, you sarcastic bastard."

Loki hummed in thinly veiled delight at Clint's words. "What are you doing here, my Hawk? And how did you ever manage the journey?"

"Came to get you. Took Jane's Bifrost, and came to bring you home."

"All this way, just for me," Loki asked, conjuring a skin of water to soothe the archer's throat. He pressed it to his lips and waited as Clint drank his fill, wiping away the excess when he was finished.

"Course," Clint replied. "We couldn't just leave you here, could we?"

Loki smiled knowingly and replied, "No. I guess we couldn't. But how are we to get back?"

"I left a homing beacon at the drop point. We just trigger that and Jane will yank us back to Earth. No muss, no fuss."

Loki nodded, looking thoughtful. "Clever. But we should wait until morning. It is far too dangerous to travel at night, and you are ill-suited to this clime. You nearly died, you know."

"Yeah. Not my best moment, I admit. But I'd do it again, in a heartbeat."

"I do not doubt that, my Hawk. Not one bit," Loki said softly while pulling a fur throw up over Clint's chest. "But before you decide to again risk your life in order to rescue me, let's get you warmed up, hmm? The nights are exceptionally long here, so we have time."

"Sounds good to me," Clint murmured, drawing Loki back down to him, arms wrapped tight around his back, breathing in that scent he had missed so desperately. He caught himself staring; studying that familiar face that had been slightly remade. It was Loki, but it wasn't. The god had told him of his true parentage, but had flatly refused to allow Clint to see him in his Jotun form. The archer had pushed the issue until Loki had exploded into a rage, and since then neither had mentioned it. He wondered why Loki had been so reluctant, especially considering how striking it was.

Loki narrowed his crimson eyes and asked stiffly, "Why are you studying me so intently?"

"I just never thought I'd get to see you like this. Especially after your reaction the last time I broached the subject."

"And are you disgusted," Loki growled, his lip curling. "Disturbed that you came all this way to find a monster instead of your pale-skinned whore?"

"I don't see any monsters here," Clint said slowly. "You look…amazing."

The god snorted. "Do not let your paltry emotions blind you, Barton. Sentiment can be overwhelming."

Clint took Loki's right hand and dragged it down, pressing it against his half-hard cock. "Does that feel like sentiment to you?"

"That feels like a need too long gone unfulfilled," Loki snarled, baring his pointed teeth as he snatched his hand away. "Nothing more."

The archer shoved himself up in one smooth motion and captured Loki's mouth with his own, muffling the venom the god was spewing. Loki shoved him away, but Clint wrapped one hand around his nape and pulled him back into the kiss. It was then that Loki bit him, sinking sharp teeth into a soft lower lip, drawing blood. And still Clint kissed him, through the pain, through the coppery tang of his slowly dripping life-force. Loki's struggles weakened, and he gave in to the assault, parting his lips yet growling softly all the while. Clint finally pulled back for breath, his mouth and chin slicked red, Loki's dark skin wearing a matching stain. The god eyed him warily, and then ran his tongue out to clean his lips.

Clint panted, fully hard now and squirming with anticipation. Loki was right; it had been too long since his needs were fulfilled, but he was absolutely wrong to attribute Clint's excitement to that alone. The archer found himself wanting Loki even more in this form; wanting to trace every line and whorl on that lovely blue skin with the point of his tongue. He wanted to take the god into his mouth and see if he tasted the same. To explore every inch of him, and to watch those crimson eyes roll back in Loki's head as he drove deep into his body. No, Clint was not dismayed or disgusted; he was inflamed.

He leaned back in only to have Loki stop him, splaying one large hand against the archer's chest. "Wait," he said, glaring into Clint's eyes. "Do you know what you are inviting by trying to take me in this form? We Jotun are not gentle in anything we do; coupling being no exception. We bite; we claw; we take what we want. I may well break you, my little Hawk."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Clint murmured, pressing against the hand at his chest, straining toward the god.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth, but he kept the archer at bay. "You say that now. But how will you feel when I have marked you fully? When your skin has been painted red, and you are howling beneath me in equal measures of lust and pain? The one thing you must remember, Clint, is this. We Jotun do not just endure the cold; we embrace it…because we burn. The cold helps us to control it; a small measure, at least, but we are forever burning. For power, for food, for pleasure of the flesh. Always smoldering just beneath the surface. Can you handle that, my Hawk? Can you dabble in that which might destroy you?"

"Absolutely," Clint panted, gripping Loki's wrist and sliding the Jotun's hand up to the nape of his neck. "I'm willing to take whatever you want to give me. Or you can take whatever you want to take. Either way, I'll enjoy it."

Loki's eyes flared, the firelight dancing in the crimson depths as he pulled the archer to him, a growl rumbling from his chest. Clint's hand hesitantly moved up Loki's arms, tracing the raised lines on his skin with feather light touches. The god shuddered, and Clint was surprised to feel the heat rolling off of him. It felt like opening the door to a blast furnace, and he was suddenly desperate to have Loki's hands on every inch of him; to take him deep inside of his body.

Leaning in closer, Clint licked his way down Loki's neck and over his chest, following the whorls, nipping at the ridges, causing the god to snarl with lust. The sound went right to Clint's cock, making him shiver in anticipation. He'd always liked it a bit rough, but something told him he was in for a whole new definition of the word. As he mouthed and teased, Clint's hands drifted lower, going to the knot in the fabric draped around Loki's hips. He worked it open as he pressed his teeth sharply into one of Loki's nipples, drawing out that deliciously feral snarl again. Clint uttered a needy moan as he unwrapped the material from around the god's body, baring him completely.

He pulled back and looked down, eyes widening a bit as he took in the sight of Loki fully nude. The lines that ran over his chest led down to his abdomen, curving in to bracket his navel, then sweeping out to wrap around his hips. His cock was insistently hard, straining toward Clint, and goddamn if it didn't seem bigger. Loki was more than enough to handle in his Asgardian form, but this? This was impressive. Raising his eyes to meet that burning crimson gaze, the archer slicked his tongue over his lower lip and wrapped his fist around the god's length.

Loki's hips arched up into Clint's grip, that never-ending growl deepening until it echoed off the walls around them. He squeezed and released, watching as blue lips skinned back over sharp teeth, and his tongue ran out again to taste the air. Even that part of him seemed slightly changed. Longer, more pointed and roughened like a cat. Clint shivered at the images that rose unbidden in his mind of Loki between his thighs, that tongue teasing and dipping into his body, the rough surface laving him in ways he'd never before experienced. He stroked his fist roughly up and over the sensitive head of Loki's cock, giving a small twist, then back down again to the base, squeezing rhythmically. The god grunted and tightened his hand around Clint's nape, pushing him down as his hips pushed up.

"Suck," Loki commanded in a guttural voice.

The archer ran his tongue around the thick head of Loki's cock before taking him into his mouth and doing as he was told. That snarl came again as Clint hollowed his cheeks and forced his way down, swallowing as much of the god's length as he could. He nearly choked when Loki hit the back of his throat, absently noting that he was larger as the hand at his neck pressed harder. The thick flesh slipped past his gag reflex, and seated itself fully within him, drawing a long, low moan from the Jotun prince. Loki's other hand curled under Clint's chin, lifting him off of his cock, and then pushing him back down as his hips snapped up. Loki fucked the archer's mouth violently, growling out, "Swallow me, my Hawk. Let me feel your throat work its magic."

Clint swallowed dutifully, his eyes watering at the pressure as Loki rapidly slid in and out. He pressed his tongue up against the underside, teasing on every stroke, and was rewarded with that feral growl. Every sign of Loki's lust was stoking Clint's own arousal until he felt that he might come just from this. Just from having the god thrusting down his throat, holding his head immobile as he took exactly what he wanted. His neglected cock twitched, trapped behind the thick material of his cold weather gear and Clint realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperate to have Loki's hands upon him.

Loki dragged Clint up, licking the drying blood from his chin and hissing, "Strip. Now. Before I lose all control and rend the clothing from you."

"Normally, I'd let you," Clint smirked as he unzipped his coat. "But I'd rather not make the trip back to Earth in a borrowed loincloth."

Loki sank back on his haunches, watching intently as the smaller man shed his clothing. As the archer pulled his shirt off, exposing his broad chest and corded arms, he suddenly found himself flat on his back, Loki crouching over him, teeth bared. That rumbling growl had returned, and Clint felt a wave of fear wash over him at the way Loki was looking at him. He couldn't quite tell if the Jotun wanted to fuck him or gut him, and goddamn if that didn't somehow make Clint all the hotter. He squirmed under Loki as a sharp-fingered hand pressed him to the ground, and the god leaned down, running that roughened tongue up the center of Clint's chest.

"Oh." Clint breathed, feeling the way Loki's tongue pulled at his flesh. "That's…different."

Loki chuckled darkly and bit down on Clint's collarbone, breaking the skin, and pulling a small cry from the archer's throat. He then lapped at the trickle of blood before moving up to kiss Clint roughly, the taste of copper heavy on his lips. Slipping from his mouth to Clint's throat, he repeated the motion. A sharp bite followed by a thorough tongue bath. By the third bite, the archer was panting frantically, anticipating the delicious rush of pain before the strange, tactile sensation of being licked clean. His hips rutted against Loki's thigh, his arousal apparent, and the god murmured against his lower belly, "Get those pants off."

"I was about to," Clint moaned, hands making quick work of the buttons and arching his back off the ground to shove them down. "But then you tackled me."

Loki stripped Clint's pants the rest of the way off, flung them to the side and pulled back to savor the sight of his Hawk laid out before him. Chest heaving, streaks of blood painted across his torso and his heavy cock curved up against his lower stomach, twitching in need. The pleading look in Clint's eyes was nearly enough to drive Loki mad with want, and he slid down, lowering his head and dragging that rough tongue slowly up the underside of the archer's length.

"Goddamn," he bleated as his overly sensitive flesh was laved and pulled before being enveloped in a wet, burning heat. Clint's hips arched up, and he loosed a hoarse shout as Loki swallowed him down, letting sharp teeth scrape lightly against his length. With a shudder, the archer brought his hands down to grip tightly in Loki's tousled ebony mane, holding on for dear life as the Jotun busily slurped up and down, growling all the while. Clint writhed and groaned, pitched and shook as Loki devoured him, employing all the skill of his heated mouth and pointed tongue. And as he skated on the edge of release, the god pulled off his cock with one final hard suck and levered his legs back, spreading the archer wide. Clint sobbed in frustration, and then wailed as Loki drove that long, rough tongue deep inside of him.

Loki delved deeper, licking and twisting, invading, withdrawing; fucking Clint with his tongue in a preview of what as to come. Panting roughly, he pulled back and bit down on that spot where thigh melted into haunch, and Clint fairly screamed. Whether in want or woe, Loki could not tell, and truth be told, it did not much matter to him. Not in this state, and definitely not in this form. All that mattered was the flesh between his teeth, the fire in his loins, and the pleasure he was seeking. The god twitched his fingers, conjuring a slick substance before drilling them into his Hawk's body, scissoring and stretching Clint's wanting hole. He was so eager; his mortal. With a salacious grin, Loki added a third finger, driving them deep and feeling the ache between his thighs as the archer howled.

"P-please," Clint stuttered. "Goddamn it, Loki. Please. Fuck me."

"There is nothing sweeter than when you beg," Loki crooned, leaning in and lapping at the angry red mark he had raised on the golden flesh before him. He bit down again as he twisted his fingers inside Clint's pliant body, ripping another frustrated sob from the smaller man.

"Oh god, please," the archer wailed. "I-I'll beg! I'll do whatever you want, just…fuck…just fill me up!"

Loki snarled, pulled his fingers free and dragged Clint up into his lap, legs splayed to either side of the Jotun's hips. He pressed the head of his thick cock to the archer's entrance, gripped his thighs tightly, and pulled him down, sheathing himself deep inside that exquisite heat. Clint's body spasmed and his mouth dropped open in a soundless cry. He was being filled in a manner he never had been before, Loki's impressive girth stretching him and reaching spots inside him that he'd never known existed. The god arched down and glared into Clint's eyes, growling, "You asked for this, little human. You begged for it. Now take it." And with an animalistic cry, Loki drew back and rutted deep into his Hawk.

Clint's hands wrapped around Loki's forearms, clutching tightly as the Jotun fucked him senseless. He could barely breathe from the force of his thrusts, and the archer's vision was quickly fading to gray at the edges. He could hear desperate sobs echoing in the ice chamber, and it took him a moment to realize that he was the author of those wanton, needy sounds. A flush was rising in his face and chest, the heated blood beneath the skin rushing, his pulse hammering in his throat. And Clint was seconds away from coming undone when Loki's fingers slid around his straining cock and clamped down.

"No," he snarled. "Not yet. Not until I've used you fully."

With a keening cry, the archer rocked his hips, fucking himself on the Jotun's length, all measure of pride and restraint gone as he begged the god to come. "Oh fuck…Loki…come in me, please. Fucking fill me up," he babbled. "I want it. Now! PLEASE."

And with one final violent thrust, Loki did just that. He threw his head back and howled as his orgasm took him, the burning heat of his release searing Clint's insides. The smaller man cried out at the feel of being filled; of the throb and pulse of Loki's cock buried so deeply within him; and at the mounting tension in his own belly. Loki's hand was still fisted around Clint's cock, preventing his own release as the god shuddered beneath the onslaught of pleasure. Finally, Loki pulled free from the archer's body, gathering a bit the slickness coating Clint's inner thighs and spreading it over his own opening. He released his Hawk from his tight grasp and went to his hands and knees before the dazed mortal.

"Now you may come," Loki growled. "But only deep inside of me. I need no prelude; no preparation. Just…use me until you come, Clint. Hard, fast and deep. For your pleasure only."

"Oh, fuck you," Clint gasped. "This is not going to take long at all."

"I would be insulted if it did," Loki answered smugly, spreading his thighs and arching his back. "What are you waiting for? Fuck me."

Clambering to his knees, Clint dug his fingers into Loki's hips and lined himself up with the god's entrance. Then with one hard thrust, he buried himself fully, swearing bitterly at the intense heat, and the crushing tightness of Loki's body. The Jotun tossed his head and rocked his hips back, slamming down onto the archer's cock.

"Harder," he hissed.

With a guttural moan, Clint pistoned his hips, fucking all his pent up lust into Loki, all his fear and want of the previous two weeks. He set a punishing pace, driving his teeth into his lower lip, reopening the wound Loki had gifted him with, trying in vain not to spill immediately. But the attempt was futile, and Clint already felt the tension unspooling, the wave of blinding pleasure cresting. He began to shake with the effort of holding back, and Loki rolled his hips, urging him on.

"Let go, my Hawk. Fill me as I filled you; to overflowing."

"Fuck…you" Clint panted, and thrust twice more before breaking apart. He shrieked out his lust, and washed Loki's insides with his own release. The god pushed back against him, taking Clint's cock as deeply as he could, milking him dry as the archer stuttered through small, weakening thrusts. Finally spent, he pulled free from Loki's body and collapsed back onto the fur, gasping shallowly.

Loki hummed in contentment, his internal fire banked and smoldering, for now at least. He stretched out next to his Hawk and trailed sharp fingers over the planes of his chest, cooing, "Sleep now. We have far to journey on the morrow and you will need your strength."

"Home," Clint murmured, already half unconscious as he curled around Loki.

"Yes," Loki said. "Home."


End file.
